


Vices

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Demon/Priest AU [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games), Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Ass Play, Bisexual Male Character, Blasphemy, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Boot Worship, Church Sex, Cock Slut, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Hurt No Comfort, I DONT HAVE A FOOT FETISH, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Touching, Nonbinary Character, Oral Fixation, Other, Painful Sex, Prayer, Priest Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Riding, Self-Hatred, Shameless Smut, Spit As Lube, Trauma, Whump, boot fetish doesnt mean foot fetish its an important difference, miragehound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 00:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: After months of searching, Elliott finds a way to confront the demon who stole his life away.





	Vices

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
> Let the shit talking commence!!
> 
> Also note, Herrlof means trophy, specifically a trophy won through war

_ “Hound? You want to summon Hound?” _

The church door’s lock clicked and he stepped inside, the familiar scent of frankincense washing over him in a comforting wave. The sanctuary was dark as expected, and the church was empty. He locked the door behind him and triple checked it.

_ “People summon Hound for one reason. Most want a demon for the gifts they receive, y’know, money or intelligence. Some offer charisma boosts or promise good fortune. Not Hound. When someone summons the Hound, it’s because they want someone dead.” _

No one could enter the church while he performed the ritual. If someone else entered the building, they’d be in extreme danger and he didn’t want Hound hopping into the body of some poor student trying to cram in an extra bible study session. If that happened, he was as good as dead, and all his time searching would be in vain.

His contact—someone he’d had to near-fruitlessly search for through various dusty tomes, dark corners of the internet, and finally a number of seedy bars filled with shift figures—had given him a very specific set of instructions, and a warning not to deviate from them. “God help you if you do,” the man had said.

Elliott let out a short, humorless laugh. Right now, God was the least of his concerns.

His target was a large mirror set in the back wall behind the pulpit. It was the centerpiece of the grand design that took up most of the wall. It was carved from stone, a scene depicting the archangel Gabriel coming down to deliver messages to the people. Once he stepped into the mirror, he frowned at the reflection. His eyes didn’t look like his own. The warm, amber was dull now, washed out by too many nights tracking down people who really didn’t want to be found. He’d done a poor job shaving, leaving his cheeks covered in stubble with tiny nicks from the razor and his hair was curled into a big, knotted mess. His shirt was wrinkled and his face betrayed how tired he truly was, but he busied himself with remembering the ritual set up so he didn’t have to look at the mockery that was his reflection. 

Most of the time, he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror, anyway. He’d lost something vital the day he’d been confronted by Hound, something precious, and he could see its jarring absence whenever he had to look himself in the eye. And more than that, he’d lost his faith. It had been such a strong presence in his life, and now it was all gone. He couldn’t talk to any of his fellow exorcists—not only did he not have the guts to, but if they knew what he’d done, they would never permit him to set foot in a church again. He felt completely and utterly isolated from everything he knew; even his mother, the one person who he’d normally feel he could talk to, had been so hurt by his decision to leave the church, and even more so when he couldn’t tell her  _ why _ . So he was alone.

And  _ that _ meant he had nothing to lose.

What he was doing was dangerous,  _ stupidly _ so, but... he found that he just didn’t care. Even if it meant losing his soul, he wanted to make sure that Hound could never do to someone else what they did to him. Eternity in Hell meant nothing anymore, not if he could stop them from hurting even a single person. The emptiness in his chest couldn’t grow any larger at this point anyway.

He shook his head and stepped away from the mirror.  _ No more stalling. _ The first step of the ritual involved salt, and he needed a  _ lot  _ of it. He removed a box of it from the bag and poured it onto the floor. Carefully, he walked around the mirror so the salt ring lay in an unbroken semi-circle around it. Salt was something he’d occasionally employed as an exorcist so he knew it worked against lesser demons to keep them pinned to one spot, though even the man he’d gotten the ritual from admitted he was unsure about its effectiveness when it came to a demon of Hound’s caliber. If he nudged the salt and broke the circle, he’d have to start over, so he carefully tiptoed around it watching his steps carefully. 

Second, he unwound a ball of red yarn and draped it over the mirror. There were gaps in behind the glass that he could tie it off into, and he knotted it as tightly as he could. If the string fell off the mirror, it wouldn’t end well for him. Together they might ward off Hound, but alone he doubted they’d do much of anything.

Third came the candles. They were placed evenly outside the circle of salt and the wax was dyed a deep red to match the string. He’d heard in his own research which had later been confirmed by the man that red was the color of protection, hence red string instead of white. They were beeswax candles, specifically chosen because of how strongly they burned. They needed to be lit in a clockwise manner, and monitored for a few seconds to make sure none would fizzle out and require the whole process to be started again. He flicked open a lighter and held it until the wick began to smoke, careful of the salt as he lit each one. If they went out at any point, he’d be screwed. 

Once protection was down, he could start summoning. Some lingering bit of faith that Elliott had labeled as simply habit grumbled about how he shouldn’t be doing this, but he told it to pipe down. He needed to do something to defile the holy space, and the stronger the demon, the more dramatic it needed to be. Turning a cross upside down might have worked for a minor one, but the man had given Elliott an idea for what he needed to do. Slinging his bag back onto his shoulder, he stalked over to the far side of the church to the familiar painting of Christ that hung on the wall. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked, and Elliott could have sworn they sounded out of time with his own. He shook off the rising paranoia and stopped before the painting, digging around in the bag to find what he was after. 

The knife sat folded in the bottom of the bag, and he flipped it open as he stared at the painting. Before he had time to try and talk himself out of it, he stabbed the knife through the forehead of the painting and drug it down, slicing through the canvas as the ripping sound echoed off the walls. He turned the knife sideways and cut a horizontal mark clean through the lower half of the painting, connecting it over the sacred heart before stepping back and admiring his work. The canvas hung in four pieces, and a reversed cross was cut into the frame behind it. He knew it would do the job, and so he and hurried back towards the mirror. The ritual was time sensitive, and he couldn’t afford to mourn the destroyed artwork. 

Once back at the mirror, the last step was all he needed to do. He stepped over the ring of salt and stared deeply into the glass, putting all his willpower into wishing the demon to appear. The man had been very clear that he couldn’t falter at all during this process or else Hound wouldn’t show, so Elliott focussed on all the emotions he’d been suppressing for all those long, cold winter months. He let the anger bubble up as he willed,  _ demanded _ , that Hound show themselves and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The rage burned and his chest grew tight, but he ground his teeth together and kept steady. It wasn’t dissimilar to the focus needed to pull a demon from a body, but he was still out of practice. 

Satisfied with the intensity of his demand, Elliott closed his eyes and began to count. He just needed to make it to ten, and it would all be done and over with. 

1.

_ Come out you bastard _

2.

_ I know you can hear me _

_ Show yourself  _

4.

_ I’m not scared this time _

_ I’m not scared this time _

_ You can’t scare me _

_ I’m not done with you _

8.

_ Hound…  _

_ Please show up…  _

10.

_ I have to talk to you _

Elliott exhaled and forced his eyes open.

A familiar, hungry face looked back at him.

**“Halló aftur, little lamb.”**

On some level, the skeptic in him had expected it to fail. Expected it to be nothing but nonsense and that he’d been wasting his time trying to find them. He knew it was possible to summon up demons, but it was impossible to tell which were true and even more so find one that allowed the summoning of a specific demon. 

Clearly he’d gotten it right. 

“Hello, Hound.”

Their body was trapped behind the mirror, red thread cutting their image apart into a hundred different pieces, but they looked real enough that he could reach out and touch them if he wanted to. Their appearance hadn’t really changed much aside from the from the mask appearing more metallic, reflecting the candlelight as it danced around their eyes. They were the same dazzling red lights set far back behind the mask, and their mouth was curved up in a monstrous grin, pulling the skin of their cheeks tight across their face. They looked immensely pleased with themself, crossing their arms across their chest and looking down at him.  **“To what do I owe this… ** ** _pleasure_ ** **?”**

He’d forgotten how unsettling hearing them speak was. The normal greeting was turned into something vile and Elliott reminded himself of the task at hand. He wouldn’t put it past Hound to try rile him up so he’d make a mistake somewhere down the line, but the good thing about dirty tricks was they were useless once they were discovered. Still, there was something borderline sensual about the way they spoke. 

“I’m surprised it worked.”

**“Of course it did. When I hear someone begging, you know I cannot resist.”**

“I wasn’t-!”

Elliott cut himself off, determined to not let them get to him. Even his small outburst seemed to amuse them greatly, much to his chagrin. “I brought you here because I want to make a deal.”

**“Another one?” ** the shock they had on their face was clearly feigned,  **“My my, and after you protested so much about the last one.”**

“Shut it,” he growled, not caring about making the demon angry. Hound didn’t seem angry, and Elliott wondered what it would take to get under their skin for a change. 

**“Out with it then, what exactly can I do for you? I never took you as a killer, but perhaps I misjudged you.”**

Truthfully, Elliott hadn’t expected to get this far. Even if the ritual had worked, he’d expected Hound to just laugh in his face and disappear without a word once he’d mentioned cutting a deal. “I’m not looking to get rid of someone.”

A sigh.  **“Unfortunately. I take it this call is of a more personal nature then?”**

“What I want,” said Elliott, reigning in his growing frustration, “Is for you to stop doing what you do. Stop tormenting good people for your own sick joy. I don’t care what your justification is, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

**“Well that is quite the big demand, little lamb. And what do you offer me in return?”**

“My soul, if you’d have it.”

Hound pursed their lips and placed their hand under their chin.  **“Hm, one soul for an eternity in exchange for giving up the pursuit of others?”**

“Yes.”

**“Well you must think very highly of yourself then.**

**“Now do not misunderstand,” ** they purred,  **“I did enjoy our little arrangement, but you are going to have to make this a little bit more interesting if I am to accept.”**

“What did you have in mind?”

**“A game,” ** they said, smile stretching ear to ear,  **“A little game between the two of us. If I lose, I do what you wish. I go back to Hell and I never touch a living soul again. I will even leave your righteous little soul alone as well.”**

“And if I lose?”

Hound dropped their gaze down and then looked up at him, licking their lips.  **“For an hour after the loss, you belong to me. You will give up complete control to me, and I will decide afterwards if I take your soul as well. Depending on your performance, of course.” **

Elliott narrowed his eyes. “What kind of game is this?”

**“Oh, it is very simple. You have questions you want answered from our last encounter, yes?”**

“Yeah, so? That’s not why I’m here.”

**“So, this will be your chance to have them answered, along with possibly barring me from having my fun ever again.”**

Hound put a hand on their hip as they explained the rules, leaning in close to the mirror so Elliott wouldn’t miss a word.  **“We take turns asking the other a question. The other person is to answer as truthfully as they can, and in turn the question they ask must be answered truthfully as well. No matter how difficult the question, even if it is something you lie to yourself about, it must be answered truthfully. If they purposefully lie or choose not to answer, the other person does not have to tell the truth in their response, but they do not have to lie either. The person who was lied to can choose either response, and the liar will not know the difference. You can ask whatever you want, but so can I. We each get three questions, and the winner is determined after that.”**

“How do I win?”

**“If you purposefully lie, then you lose a point. If you lie for two out of the three, you lose the whole game. If you look away from the mirror, that also results in a victory for me.”**

“How do I know if you’re lying?”

**“You won’t. You can also accept a dare from me, and if you cannot complete it, I win.” **

“This seems very one-sided.”

They shrugged.  **“All you have to do is give me something I cannot, or will not, answer. One question that I refuse to answer, or if you can give me a riddle that I cannot solve, then you win instead.”**

“So you just have to fail one question?”

Elliott stopped to think. If there was no way they were going to accept his original deal, then this was probably going to be the only chance he got at achieving his goal. He’d buried down the hope that he’d ever get the answers to the questions he’d had burning in his brain for months now, and with the prospect of answers  _ and  _ a chance to get what he came for, all while potentially walking away with his soul intact? He had a feeling this was going to be the best chance he got, even if he doubted it would be as easy as it sounded. Exorcist training was largely based on ignoring demons instead of conversing, but he already had an idea of a way to stump them. 

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

**“Oh, how I love hearing you say that. You can go first, if you wish.”**

Elliott swallowed nervously, trying to pick out a question from the piles of them that were scattered everywhere in his mind. There seemed to be a thousand options, but he settled on one that he hadn’t been thinking off as much recently. He had three chances, but he could use at least one to gain a small bit of insight. “Why did you possess that girl?”

**“Ah, I see we are starting off easy, then?” ** They chuckled.  **“A rather interesting case, that. You see, who that little girl calls father is father in name only. Her blood relative was the victim of assault by her mother, then forbidden from seeing the child after she was born. Once the real father found this out, he told the fake one and the two conspired to take their fury out on the mother for lying. They asked me for help, but failed to specify how they wanted the mother… taken care of. So I improvised, and it led to me being strapped to that table in the basement, and eventually to your mouth being wrapped around my cock, so in the end I was very happy they called on me.”**

Elliott hadn’t been told the name of the girl or her family, but he remembered now reading a grisly headline from the newspaper about a woman being found dead in her home after being torn apart. It seemed impossible a little girl could do something like that, but with a demon like Hound holding the reins it wasn’t unlikely. During possession the human soul was smothered and the usual restrictions of the flesh were mostly ignored, so the girl would have been strong enough to overpower the mother. Tooth and nail were deceptively effective weapons when used on nothing but bear skin. He’d experienced the trauma of dealing with a mother who had to bury her children, but a child having to bury the parent they’d slaughtered seemed just as horrible. 

**“My turn now, little lamb.”**

Elliott braced himself. 

**“When you summoned me, was that little deal the only thing on your mind?”**

“Yes.”

His answer was immediate, but it felt to Elliott like it was sincere enough. He’d wanted nothing more than to find a way to make Hound stop, to save others so they’d never become lost as he had. The months afterwards had been spent in isolation, scrubbing away at his skin in disgust and pushing down the urge to crawl back to the church. He knew nothing was answering his call, so it was nothing but a waste of his time begging help from an indifferent being, if one even existed to ignore him in the first place. Existing in the world without hope is a cruel thing, and especially to those who’d pledged themselves to a faith where hope was supposed to exist regardless of any evil that tried to stop it. Something flickered in Hound’s eyes, but Elliott wrote it off a trick of the candlelight and stared back into the mirror. If they were trying to suggest something, they weren’t going to get far. 

_ Unless… _

No, that wouldn’t count. On his weaker days, though he hated to admit, he may have had the night he spent with them come to mind, but this couldn’t be one of those. It was always on his mind, but it wouldn’t count against him.

“Who were you before you become a demon?  _ Why  _ did you become one?”

He’d read during his studies that demons hated giving out personal information. There were rumors and untested theories that if a human-turned demon’s original identity was discovered, it could be used to destroy it and set free any souls that it had trapped. Most demons would give vague answers, or refuse to answer at all when probed about their old lives. Hound had specified that they had to answer as truthfully as possible, so if they were at risk of exposing themself he doubted they’d answer. He felt confident that they’d turn down their mouth into a sneer and disappear back into the mirror, never to bother another soul again. 

**“Another easy one then.”**

His heart sank.

** “Simple, really. I was a simple hunter, given no name by my people. I was forced to watch as your kind burned our villages and stole away my friends and family to raise in your churches. Your people killed any resistance we started, having no respect for us and our gods. We were willing to tolerate you, live alongside you in peace, but your greed knew no bounds. **

Hound sounded angry now, their jaw tense as they spoke.  **“You destroyed our shrines and tried to carve the name of your god into ** ** _our_ ** ** history. I watched it all, and I admit I hated you for it. The first time I killed one of you was the first time I knew true pleasure. It was an elderly priest, knowing for beating the children in his care when they would not listen to his fables. I stalked him until he was alone, then I gutted him. It was messy, but I learned and would not make a mistake again.**

**“It became my mission, to rid my homeland of your sickness. In the beginning you could say it was my own personal crusade, but soon it became more than that. Killing was no longer enough, until I knew about your obsession with purity. I knew how much your god valued it, how much it ruled over your life and how he’d cast you aside if it was taken from you. And I knew as I took it that first man in the church he’d erected in the rubble left of our temple that this was my purpose. His blood became a sacrifice to Tyr, and once I finished with him my fate was sealed.**

**“Your brothers and sisters alike fell, one by one. They whispered stories of me, calling me the devil and thought their wards could keep them safe. My people just laughed in their faces. I gave them the hope they needed to keep fighting against the invaders. I could walk among them in the day and they were none the wiser. My mask kept me safe, and it made them tremble when they realized who I was. It made me a symbol, something that can never really die. Eventually their screaming would turn from fear to one of pleasure, and I lived to see the light fade from their eyes when I walked away and left them to their own devices. It was hilarious, how predictable they were. If I left a knife behind, I could watch through the window as they carved themselves open. If there was a length of rope left behind, I’d find them dangling from it in the morning. One dared threaten me, and I fed him his own spleen. Oh, that was such a delightful night. **

**“I do not remember exactly how or when I eventually fell, but I do know my final resting place was atop the bodies I had left behind. When I awoke, the gods had given me a new form, and a chance to continue my duty. In all my years I have conversed with them, they’ve never spoken of the one you call God.”**

Elliott tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. If Hound didn’t have a name, then he’d wasted the question. He cursed himself for getting his hopes up. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. They probably knew he was going to ask something like that, and now he only had one attempt to get it right with no clue of what to ask next.

**“Do you still want to believe?”**

“Yes.”

Elliott mourned his faith and the comfort that lay within it. He couldn’t simply scoff at it and proclaim it all to be meaningless, that he was somehow more enlightened without it as some did. His faith had allowed him and his mother to heal and grow closer, given him a purpose and a reason for being. Any sane person would miss that, but there was no way for him to rekindle it now. It had to stay dead. There was no way he could bear to live through losing it again. Even if Hound claimed to be proof that some kind of deity existed, he could never pledge himself to one again. 

“Were you ever scared?”

Hound didn’t answer immediately, and Elliott begged anything that might listen, even Hounds own gods that he’d chosen the right question. Hound was proud. The essence of it practically poured out of them, and demons weren’t known for their humility. Hound admitting fear counted as admitting weakness, and he didn’t know if they’d be willing to give something like that up. Even if they did, he’d been truthful so far and he just needed to get through one last question before he’d get his desire. Even Hound had been human once and no such human existed that was immune to fear. He couldn’t read their face, and every second that ticked by was agony waiting for a response. 

**“Yes. I remember it quite well, actually.**

**“I remember being young, the first night I set out after one of you. I had grown up with your kind around, but because I knew no different I was never really afraid. I had never killed someone before, and although I could not see you as people, I admit I was afraid. I was afraid of failure and what my gods would do if I did, or what my people would think if I was caught. I’d seen the punishments dealt out to heretics, burnt or beaten until they confessed, and I had no desire to wind up like one of them. **

**“My hand faltered the first, and I was grateful for his age since he could not overpower me when I first missed. My second strike was true, and I caught him across the belly, like a fish. He was a dead man after that, but I was so scared he would not die and I would be found out. See, he knew me from his classes, and he had been my first target out of anger for his treatment of my kin and I. He had whipped one of my friends near death, and they’d caught a sickness that ended them because of it. If the old man lived, I would die and my friend’s death meant nothing. So I cut him open until there was no more blood to left leak from the body. His blood watered the grass, and when there was little left of him but meat, the fear was gone. This man who had seemed so strong died the same as a common sow, so there was nothing worth fearing.”**

His question hadn’t been good enough, but there was a streak of hope left. If he could answer Hound’s question it would all be over. It didn’t matter how humiliating they tried to make it, his own pride hadn’t stopped him before and it certainly wouldn’t now. 

**“If I were to touch you again, how would you like me to do it?”**

A heat rose across Elliott’s face as he heard the question, but he snarled back at them, teeth bared. His anger took hold of him, and Elliott was happy to let it do the talking. “I wouldn’t. I’d rather cut off my hands then ever have you touch me again.”

**“Ah, and there’s the lie.”**

“W-what? No, no that wasn’t a lie! I meant every word of it! I never want you to touch me, ever again!”

**“Now Elliott,” ** they cooed,  **“The lie has been spoken, you cannot convince yourself otherwise. Remember, I said lying to yourself counts as a wrong answer, too.”**

“No! I didn’t lie!”

**“If you didn’t lie,”**

Elliott watched in horror as they stepped through the mirror, materializing around the red string until they were mere inches away from him. 

**“Then how exactly can I do this?”**

He stumbled back, knocking one of the candles on its side and spilling wax onto the wooden floor. Fear exploded in his chest and adrenaline took over as he turned to run, fleeing towards the door and away from the menacing figure in front of him.

**“I think not.”**

Something grabbed onto him from behind, snaking its way around his ankle and pulling him back towards the demon. Desperate, he dug his nails into the floor, crying out in pain when a nail protruding from a board tore most of his fingernail away from the bed. Whatever had a hold of him was strong, impossibly so, and there was nothing he could cling to and try to escape from its grasp.  **“Remember our agreement, little lamb.”**

He gasped as he was lifted from the floor by an invisible hand that turned him and forced him to eye level with Hound.  **“I won, and now, you belong to ** ** _me.” _ **

They strode over away from the mirror to the altar in the center of the stage. With a snap of their fingers whatever force had him ensnared dragged him towards them before dropping him at their feet. 

**“I had such fun last time we were here,” ** they stroked the marble, recalling the fond memory,  **“I figured why break tradition and go elsewhere?**

**“You know, Elliott, one look at you and I knew you would be the kind to come crawling back,” ** they crossed their legs and leaned into the stone slab, looking down at him from above, ** “Once so proud, and now groveling before me like you once did your false God. Your god who failed you when you needed him most, who failed to repay all your dedication and wasted time. Your God who could not be bothered to help a lowly ** ** _sheep_ ** ** like you. Maybe He saw how much you enjoyed it too. Don’t bother trying to deny it, I saw you restraining yourself. No one sucks cock like that unless they enjoy it. **

**“You look so much better like this. Here, kneeling before me rather than up on some pulpit pretending to be something you are not, something you could never really be. I helped you realize your purpose, the least you can do is thank me.”**

Elliott cried out in pain as an invisible force slammed into the back of his head, forcing him down onto the ground on his hands and knees. Even as he reeled from the blow, too stunned to think straight, he felt mouth moving of its own accord. “What can I do for you then, holy one?”

The words were  _ not _ his own. Hound somehow had control over his mouth too, forcing his lips into speaking poison. They grinned at the words they made him speak and prompted,  **“I have shown you that your god is a false one and provided you with a new idol. Prove how truly dedicated you are to me, my little sheep. Be a dear and clean my boots.”**

Elliott bit down on his tongue as hard as he could manage, but it slipped path his teeth. The taste of the leather was sharp, and the invisible hand forced his gaze upwards to look them in the eye as he licked a stripe of it. If he’d felt humiliated when they’d fucked his throat, this was unbearable. 

**“I wonder if you can imagine how much blood these boots have waded through?”**

They rested their head comfortably on their hand and looked delighted when a wave of disgust passed over his face. He tried to pull away, spit in disgust and curse at them, but they saw it coming and forced his head back down with their other boot.  **“I do love it when they fight. Tell me Elliott, how do the ashes of your failed churches taste?”**

When he spoke, his voice was still not his own. “I’m just happy you’re giving me the honor.”

_ STOP! STOP! DAMN IT ALL, STOP! _

He wanted to scream out, wrench control back and lunge at them and wipe the smug look from their face, but he couldn’t wrest back control of his own body. It wasn’t even his anymore, he was just trapped inside until this nightmare was over. They flicked their left hand upward and he was raised into kneeling with his hands in his lap. They were dangerously close to his crotch, and he scrunched his face shut to put all his focus into keeping them at bay. Hound’s fingers at his throat broke the concentration, running the pads of their fingers up his slender neck and along his jaw. They squeezed, not tight enough to fully cut off his oxygen, but enough to make him gasp. 

**“I have choked the life out of so many of you. It is so intimate, looking into someone’s eyes as they climax while breathing their final breath. Yet, you all die the same in the end, begging me to keep going even if it kills you.”**

They bent their wrist almost delicately and pressed their knuckles to his lips. He kissed each finger tenderly, moving slowly up and along their skin across the length of their hand.

**“You say you would rather mutilate yourself than touch me, but here you are, kissing the very hands that have murdered so many of your brothers and sisters. Your preaching grows so very tiring after a while, I much prefer when you do not speak.”**

Hound must have let up their control a bit because Elliott managed to pry his head back and glare up at them. “Shut up! Shut up, you fu-mmph!”

Hound cut him off by sliding two of their fingers into his mouth, and his lips responded by closing around them and his tongue by caressing the space between the two digits.  **“Ah, ah, little one. You are much prettier when you are like this. No sense in ruining such a lovely face by spoiling it with such crude words.” **

Elliott gagged when their fingers brushed the back of his throat, pain radiating from the site where their nails gouged the tender flesh.  **“What do you ** ** _really_ ** ** want me to do, little lamb? Don’t be shy.”**

They withdrew their fingers, and the moment they passed his lips he blurted out, “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

Elliott paled. 

_ No… no…. Nononono  _

**“Manners, little one.”**

“Please,  _ please _ fuck me!”

_NO!__  
_ The voice, one he couldn’t call his own, sounded needy, desperate even. It was what Hound wanted to hear, and the last thing he wanted to do. They must have seen the fear in his eyes despite the eagerness in his voice, because something truly evil became apparent in their smile, and he knew the Hound he’d dealt with before had only been surface level. He was about to deal with the Hound who without a doubt had done all the things they’d bragged of, and he was just another poor bastard to be added to the tale. 

Hound lifted his chin with their finger, looking down at him.  **“Oh, but you are not quite as pure as last I left you. I can smell a man on your skin, little one. So desperate to be at my disposal again that you taint yourself even further by slipping into someone’s bed? Were you so earnest that you fell into the lap of another, in an attempt to get a taste of what you secretly wanted me to give you?”**

They allowed Elliott to look away in humiliation, something he was grateful for. They spoke the truth, releasing a memory that shamed him even more than that night in the church. At least then he’d had noble intentions. Lives were at stake, and he’d guaranteed their survival. That night they spoke of however, he’d been drunk, completely wasted and barely able to think. The man must have been charming, but Elliott couldn’t remember a thing he’d said. What he did remember was hands trailing up his thighs, the man’s nails pressing against the soft skin on his hips, and how they’d both been too fucked to really do much of anything. He remembered calling out when the man had blown him but not what his name was, and leaving hastily in the morning before he woke. He hadn’t even made it home before breaking down and sobbing, something he longed to be able to do now. He got through the days by telling himself it didn’t count. He’d been so drunk, he probably just had a vivid dream that he couldn’t separate from reality. 

**“I admit I am slightly disappointed, but it will just make this next part easier for you now that you have some experience. Come, show me what you have learned.”**

Again he was pulled up onto his feet, but this time he stepped closer to Hound. Tears broke from the corners of his eyes as his hands undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. Hound sat back further on the altar, giving him space to plant his knees on either side of their thighs. Their hands, cold against the warm skin of his ass, slid over his cheeks and traced a line from the top of his sack to his hole, fingers still slick with his saliva.  **“Go on little lamb, I know you want to.”**

The invisible hands guided his hips down and onto their fingers, but the soft moan that escaped his lips didn’t need to be forced. They gently pushed him again, letting him rise back up when the stretch grew uncomfortable. Hound seemed to know exactly how to crook their fingers and the speed to let him rise and fall to work himself open. They scissored their fingers apart, pushing him apart more intently and stroking his prostate with each of his movements. 

Elliott could barely think straight. His mind was a mess, a flurry of different emotions and sensations while his body was forced into its rhythmic pattern. They seemed to be holding his mouth just open enough to savor the breathy moans that could escape, but not enough that he could spit back at them. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning, and the most infuriating part was that he could feel that Hound had let go of that part of him. They had just enough control to keep him enjoying himself so that they no longer had to make him say what they wanted. What he wanted was more, but he forbid himself from asking, not entirely believing it would do him any good. 

His own, traitorous hand was more concerning. No matter the effort he dedicated to pushing it away, his hand curled itself around his cock and stroked it with each movement of his hips. His hand brushed the head and he felt himself lean against Hound, forehead pressed into their shoulder. The slow pace was maddening, and as much as he hated himself it couldn’t stop him from reacting to what was happening. He didn’t want it, but he was going to enjoy it nonetheless. 

**“Good,” ** they purred as they withdrew their fingers from his hole,  **“Now, show me how you worship a god such as I.” **

Before his mind had time to scream in protest, the head of their cock was pushing into him, but this time the force pulling down on his hips was much stronger. He buried his face into their shoulder, muffling the cries of pain as they pushed him down, forcing him to take all of it without pause. His ass didn’t open as easily as his throat had, and the muscles tensed up at the intrusion which in turn just made the process more painful. Elliott ground his teeth together, but his mouth was flung open when they rocked their hips against him, driving their cock hard enough into him that he couldn’t stop the flow of tears as they poured from his eyes. It hurt, dear God it _ hurt,  _ but his hand palming the head of his cock brought him just enough pleasure to make it bearable. Their hands slid up under his shirt and locked onto his shoulders, keeping him from being able to pull away and allowing them to crash into him with a rising intensity. For a second their hold on his mouth slipped away completely, and he said the only thing he could muster.

“Please, stop! I-I can’t take this, it hurts, it hurts too much. Please, just stop…”

“**First you beg for me to fuck you, and now you beg for me to stop? My, still as indecisive as I remember. Unfortunately for you, I am rather enjoying myself, so you only leave when ****_I_** **_permit it.”_**

Hound pulled him off them enough so they could press their lips to his throat, whispering into it.  **“You started this when you agreed to my deal. So, ** ** _finish what you started.”_ **

Their voice was beastial, a low grumble that struck some sort of chord with Elliott. He ground against them harder as they sucked deep bruises along his shoulder, nipping the skin at his collarbones and paying special attention to the soft skin at the center of his neck. The kisses only served to fray his nerves further, heightening both the pain from how brutally they were fucking him and making his own cock almost too sensitive to touch. He was getting close, but he didn’t want to come, not with them looking at him. He didn’t want them to come inside him again, but with his voice resounding so beautifully off the high ceiling of the church and their own lustful panting, he could tell he didn’t have much time left before the inevitable. He didn’t want to come because of them, didn’t want to give them his first real time but he had no choice anymore. His hand wasn’t stopping and he kept riding them, ignoring the pain in his knees for the rising heat in his gut. They weren’t going to stop until they’d gotten what they’d shown up for, and Elliott wished he really had died back in the basement with the deacons. 

Their hips rolled up below, fucking him impossibly deep and the surprise was enough that Elliott finally let go. His hand didn’t stop stroking the length of his cock, squeezing tighter as he shuddered. His ass clenched tightly around them, pushing their cock hard against his prostate. Hound cursed loudly into the hollow of his neck, pulling Elliott as close to them as they could, not letting him slip off of them for even a second. His climax pushed them to their own, and as his own cum spilled over onto his fingers he felt their cock twitch inside him as they came, warm breath hitching against his shoulder. Exhausted, Elliott let himself lean into them, resting his head on their shoulder as they kissed the top of his head. They wrapped their arms around him but Elliott jerked back, remembering whose shoulder it was he wanted to cry on. 

**“Oh, you are not going anywhere. The service is not yet over.”**

Hound’s hand grabbed his and directed it towards his mouth, cum still warm on his fingers.  **“I believe you have yet to take your communion, how naughty. Here, enjoy partaking in the gift your God has given you.”**

Elliott tried to retch when the taste of it hit his tongue, but to his horror the noise that sounded instead was a moan of pure bliss. It felt like he watching from outside his body as his tongue lapped greedily at his fingers, savoring it like there was nothing else that could ever be so good. He felt the force tugging on his throat, willing him to speak and rendering him terrified of whatever they had planned for him next. “Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

_ No _

“Body of Christ, save me.”

Each word was spoken in a high, breathy tone, like just speaking was enough to tip him close to the edge again. “Blood of Christ, inebriate me.” 

_ Please no more _

“Water from the side of Christ, wash me.”

Hound looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. 

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

**“And what do we say when someone has given us such wonderful things?”**

“Thank you,” he whispered.

**“Good boy. I think, to properly reward your devotion, that you deserve to be used by me again. It is truly an honor, and one you proved to me you are worthy of.”**

Elliott’s eyes widened. “N-”

**“Shh. We are not done with our prayers yet.”**

They allowed a sob to leave his mouth as he got off their lap, wincing at the stickiness between his legs, and stood by the altar, just waiting for their command. Hound got up and put their hand on the back of his neck, pushing him down until he was bent over the altar at the waist. Shaking, his hands clutched the edge of the stone with the last dregs of his strength until his knuckles went white. His forehead touched the cold marble, and he choked down the painful knot in his throat.  **“You know the words. Go on, don’t be scared.”**

“Our Father, who art in heav-ah!”

Hound didn’t give him the luxury of starting gentle this time. Their hips slammed into him, shoving him further against the altar. His grip tightened until his hands began to ache, but it was a different sort of pain and therefore a welcome one. “Ha-hallowed b-be thy name.”

**“Come on little one, say it.”**

“Fuck…” his breathing was ragged, his voice a hoarse mess. Hound snarled behind them, displeased. They snapped his head back so he couldn’t hide his face in the stone and hissed angrily. 

**“I said say it. Say my name.”**

“Hound!” he cried, not needing their prompting again, “Fuck… Hound!”

**“That’s better. Now, keep going.”**

“Thy kingdom come.”

**“Oh, but you would do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you? Your body, your mind, you would give them all to me again. I know you would.”**

“Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.” 

**“Oh, and it ** ** _is._ ** ** My will is to remove your kind from this earth and to make it a heaven, and you are helping me do that.”**

“Give us this our daily bread.”

His nails had chipped from digging into the marble, but he didn’t dare stop.

“And forgive us our tresspases, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

**“And I do forgive them. I forgive you for trying to lie to me, and I forgive you for trying to resist me. This is me allowing you to repent for those sins. And you do so ** ** _beautifully_ ** **.”**

“And lead us not into t-temptation, but deliver us from evil.” 

**“But you sought me out all on your own. I never needed to tempt you. You wanted this long before we met, I just helped you realize it.”**

“F-for thine i-is the ki-kingdom,” Elliott couldn’t stop himself from stuttering. Their thrusts had grown almost violent, jolting his body from the impact. Yet his abused body still responded to them, and the shaking in his legs wasn’t entirely from the pain. His skin was still alight from his orgasm, and even if normally he could have stopped himself from enjoying everything, he wasn’t the one in control. Hound was making him feel good despite everything. It didn’t matter how much pain they inflicted, they’d found a way to ensure he’d love it. He’d given them this power over him. He’d gotten himself into this mess, and it was only right he was punished for making such a stupid choice. 

“The power.”

**“Yes.”**

“And the glory.”

**“** ** _Yes._ ** **”**

“For ever and ever.”

**“My perfect little ** ** _hóra. _ ** **How** ** _ far _ ** **you have fallen, but you have done so beautifully. I thank the ** **Alföðr for giving you to me, my own herrlof.** **”**

“Amen.”

**“Amen indeed.”**

Hound’s nails pierced his side and Elliott could feel bruises forming under their fingertips. They used his body without care for him, breathing heavily and he could practically hear the smile on their face. His body responded, but his mind didn’t. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and bit down on his lip, the sounds of him whining in pain just encouraging Hound. 

_ Let it end _

There was no stopping them, and fighting back was a pointless endeavour.

_ Please, just let it be over _

At least if he just went limp and gave up the struggle, he’d deny them the continued pleasure of stopping his efforts. 

When they came again, Elliott felt nothing. He’d let his eyes unfocus and drifted off into his own head, finding safety in the space without them. He heard them moaning, the harshness of it and how they laughed as they stepped away from him. He looked back to see them chuckling with a hand to their face, turned upward so the moonlight through the stained glass lit up their features, illuminating the hideous grin and the wickedly sharp teeth. It would have been terrifying, had he the capacity to feel it. 

Without their body pinning him in place, he slumped to the ground, hands trailing across the stone surface and resting on the edge. His energy was completely gone, stolen away from him and leaving him immobile on the hard floor. Hound looked down at him, shaking their head, still looking exhilarated. They sighed happily and knelt down to be at his level.  **“Thank you for bringing me back here, little lamb. I will remember this night fondly so long as I exist. Here, as a token from me. Something to remember me by.”**

They pressed something cold into his palm. Hound stood and walked backwards, still keeping their eyes on him. Elliott let his head fall down but looked back up at them with disbelief on his face. 

It was a silver blade, runic carvings along the handle of the knife that he couldn’t decipher. It looked ancient, more at home in a museum than in the pocket of a demon. Hound laughed again, deep and full-bodied.  **“Whether you use it or not is up to you. But I ** ** _know_ ** ** we will meet again no matter what you choice you make. So until then my lamb, ** **vertu blessaður!** **”**

They waved before disappearing completely, dissolving into the shadows the same as they had last time. The knife felt impossibly heavy in his hand, the weight of his choices almost too much for him hold. He looked up to the windows weakly. The moonlight struck the front of the altar and left him in the shadow of it, separating him from the holy scene behind him. He grimaced and looked back at the knife, still seemingly shining despite the lack of light. 

Hound was right. He didn’t like it, but that didn’t make it untrue. No matter what Elliott did, they would get what they wanted. To him, the choice was obvious. 

He was an exorcist. His sacred duty was to purge the evil from the world, no matter the cost or where it stemmed from. To punish the sinners who caved into their terrible desires, allowing evil into the world, and to protect the innocent from those who would risk bringing awful things upon them. 

It was clear to him which of the two groups he belonged to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ay I'm a liar and said this was going to be a short little indulgent piece. 8,000 words later I'm back on my bullshit apparently. volatileSoloist thank you for condoning my inappropriate usage of the lords prayer. 
> 
> Next chapter of Lessons will be done soon I promise! I've had bad tunnel vision with writing because I've been sick again cuz my body hates me and also I've been working on my dungeons and dragons character. I love Barbarians, they just noknock bonk people
> 
> Also have a wee Caustic think planned and done. Just needs some tweaks and that'll be up soon too. Yay exciting!
> 
> -P


End file.
